


who let the dogs out

by cas_makes_me_very_happy



Series: the dog days are over [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Compound, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dog fic, Domestic Avengers, Everyone's friends, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, briefly, is that a spoiler, literal fluff, steve is worthy, there's a plot if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:19:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cas_makes_me_very_happy/pseuds/cas_makes_me_very_happy
Summary: it's a ruff week at Avengers compound. Steve is going on missions and it soon becomes a bone-fide problem for Bucky. he can't stay at home furever but he's not pawsitive Steve will want him to go either. then things get a little hairy when he gets his hands on the gun.





	who let the dogs out

**Author's Note:**

> HOW MANY PUNS CAN I FIT INTO THE SUMMARY??
> 
> this is just a filler fic because we needed to see all the Avengers as dogs. you're welcome. there will be at least one more after this.
> 
> a big thanks to @Ijustneed12percentofamoment for beta'ing <3 love you 3000

 

Steve’s week had been going pretty well, but he was living in a compound with literal psychopaths, so of course that wasn’t going to last.

His first clue that something was wrong was that Bucky wasn’t still in bed when Steve got back from his run. He spared a moment to be disappointed because the mornings were starting to get cold and Bucky was warm, before he headed to the kitchen – the only other plausible place Bucky would be because food.

His second clue that something was wrong was that everyone immediately fell silent as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.

Bucky was indeed there, standing in that weird floor space where the kitchen ended but the lounge hadn’t quite yet begun, not so subtly blocking something with his body. Natasha was sitting on a stool at the bench, eating yoghurt and not looking too concerned with whatever had happened, but the house could be burning down and her expression would remain the same. Clint was sprawled on an armchair.

Steve stopped. “What?”

“What?” Bucky echoed.

The thing behind him said, “Woof.”

Steve just sighed and ran a palm down his face. “Who is it this time?”

“No one.”

Steve levelled him with the most unimpressed look.

“It’s Sam.”

Bucky finally moved aside to reveal a pissed-off looking dog. Steve wasn’t the best at dog breeds, but everyone knew what a German Shepherd looked like.

Sam started barking as soon as he saw Steve. It was not a quiet bark. He ran over to Steve and Steve kinda wanted to pat him because his fur looked really glossy, but he was still barking up a storm and his bite probably _was_ just as bad. Also, that would be weird, right?

“Sam,” Steve tried, only to be cut off by more barking. “Sam! You needa stop, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

Sam finally shut up, and sat back on his haunches with a huff.

“Good dog,” Bucky said, grinning.

Sam growled at him.

“What happened?” Steve asked.

Bucky raised his hands, heading to the fridge. “Hey, don’t look at me. It was him.” He pointed a metal finger at Clint.

Steve turned to Clint. “Barton?”

“He said, right to my face, that he was the coolest bird Avenger!”

“Really?”

“I know!” Clint exclaimed.

“No, I mean, _that’s_ why you shot him?” Steve shook his head. “No, never mind, of course that’s why you shot him. Where’d you even get the gun, anyway?”

“Tony dropped it off last night,” Natasha piped up, still snacking on her yoghurt.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Probably to get your vein bulging like that.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Steve cursed and turned back to Clint. He held out his hand. “Give me the gun.”

Clint grumbled but handed it over. Steve aimed it at Sam and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Steve tried again. Then he shook it for good measure. “Why isn’t it working?”

“It needs to recharge,” Bucky said through a mouthful of cereal.

“What?”

“Yeah, each time you fire it, it needs about eight hours to recharge before you can use it again.” Bucky shrugged at Steve’s questioning look. “I got Tony to give me the specs after I accidentally shot myself with it, y’know, a couple months ago.”

“I remember,” Steve said. “Were you just gonna watch me struggle?”

Bucky smiled at him, his mouth full again.

Steve glanced down at Sam. “Sorry, man. Looks like you’re stuck like that for a bit.”

“It’ll give you time to think about what you said,” Clint called.

Which was the wrong idea, because Sam launched himself at Clint with another booming bark.

 

In the end, it wasn’t so bad.

Steve was put on dog-sitting duty, mainly because he was the only one Sam didn’t growl at. Well, him and Natasha, but she claimed she was allergic and disappeared. So Steve ended up taking him to the VA.

Steve had only been coming here for a short while, ever since Sam had relocated to New York, but not once had he seen any of the veterans as relaxed as they were around Sam’s wagging tail and lolling tongue. There was something incredibly miraculous about a dog’s ability to make people smile.

It wasn’t that he even did anything particularly profound or amazing. He just sat there and let them rest their hand on his back, fingers in his fur, as they spoke about their trauma. Or about their progress. Or about how their kids were learning to walk, or that they’d found the courage to propose to their girl, or how they’d finally found the perfect mattress that was neither to hard nor too soft.

There was just something so much safer about talking to a dog. It was so much easier when there were no expectations or judgements, just soft fur between fingers and a gentle weight against the knee.

Steve listened and expertly evaded his turn to talk, gesturing for someone else to go. And Sam couldn’t even bully him into it this time, though it was safe to say that his unimpressed look still came across just as clear even in dog form.

Towards the end of the session, Sam wandered towards the back of the room where a young woman sat on her own. She was the only one who hadn’t approached them. Steve kept his distance and watched as Sam sat down beside her and ever so gently rested his chin on her knee.

For a moment, she ignored him but he just remained gazing patiently up at her.

When she did look down at him, he put his ears back and slowly swished his tail back and forth.

Something in her broke then, or maybe she finally was able to let go. She curled over and buried her face in the scruff of his neck, arms circling him to grip handfuls of his fur. He remained still and let her hold him as her shoulders shook.

There was something incredibly miraculous about a dog’s ability to allow people to heal.

It would have been an almost perfect experience, if Steve had chosen a less communal spot to shoot Sam again once the gun had recharged. He kinda forgot that clothes weren’t included in the transformation package.

There were wolf whistles and catcalls and someone threw a dollar at Sam as he used Steve’s shield to cover himself, flipping everyone off with his other hand.

That was only the beginning.

 

–

 

Bucky, obviously, because he had unlimited access to Steve’s room, was the one who found the gun again. If Steve asked, he most definitely had not been looking for it. It was just that Steve was terrible at hiding things, and Bucky was curious by nature.

And shoved at the back of the underwear drawer? Really, Steve? Bucky was not afraid to go there.

It was made even easier because Steve was on a mission, had been gone for a couple of days already, and Bucky had nothing better to do unless you counted pacing, which he did not.

It was only supposed to be a quick one, just an in and out job, but Bucky couldn’t help the restlessness that was building with every passing hour. Objectively he knew Steve could look after himself, and that Natasha and Sam were with him and would have his back, but that meant shit all to Bucky’s fraying nerves.

He was so worked up he didn’t notice he’d grabbed the wrong gun until he was down at the shooting range and suddenly realised he had nothing to shoot unless he wanted to turn the targets into cardboard dogs.

Except.

Barton’s bow and quiver were hanging on the rack.

Bucky couldn’t remember how many times Clint had told him he was absolutely not allowed to touch any of his bows ever.

But Bucky really wanted to shoot something.

Usually it was easy to slip back into that familiar mindset of the sharpshooter he’d been during the war, to steady his breathing and still his hands. Easier still to slip back into the mindset of the Soldier, though perhaps not as comforting, where even if his mind was in turmoil his body was calm.

Usually.

He took a breath.

Focus on the target. Notch an arrow, lift the bow. Stop shaking. Draw back the string. Stop shaking.

He tightened his grip to keep his hands steady, the plates on his arm whirring a protest.

The bow snapped.

Bucky dropped the pieces to the floor with a clatter, jumping back.

“Oh, shit.”

Bucky legged it.

 

“I know it was you!”

The scream – because it was a scream, not a shout – had Bucky lifting his head from his phone and the fourth unread text he’d just sent. Not that he was worried.

Clint stood in front of him, fuming, a knife held in one hand and his other hand behind his back. He was dressed for archery but clearly that wasn’t going to be happening.

Bucky decided to play dumb. “Me what?”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Clint asked. Bucky opened his mouth. Clint said, “Don’t answer that. You’re going to pay for this.”

“I’m quaking,” Bucky deadpanned.

Clint pulled his hand forward to reveal what he’d been hiding behind his back.

In a blink, Bucky had a gun aimed at Clint’s head. “Don’t even think about it. That is my favourite shirt.”

“And that was my favourite bow,” Clint said, knife poised to tear through the Captain America T-shirt he held in his hand.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Bucky said.

“That’s not the same!”

“It’s just a bow.”

Clint gasped and stabbed the knife into the material, tearing right down the centre and through the cartoon shield.

Bucky shot him.

There was a flash of red light and when Bucky blinked away the spots in his vision, a scruffy dog was standing where Clint had just been.

They stared at each other.

Clint lunged at him but he literally came up to Bucky’s knee so Bucky just sort of kicked him away and then leapt onto the bench. Clint had the most irritating bark Bucky had ever heard. He bounced around the bench, yapping away, but for all his effort he wasn’t tall enough to jump up.

Bucky sat cross-legged in the middle of the bench and watched Clint’s fuzzy head appear and disappear as he tried to get to Bucky.

“Barton! Barton, stop. For fuck’s sake.”

Bucky started throwing food at him.

They kept it up for about an hour, until Bucky ended up sprawled on his back, Clint likewise beside him, eating Cheerios from the box.

“Do you ever worry about Natasha?” Bucky asked as he gazed at the ceiling. “Does it ever eat away at you that she’s out there, doing something that could quite possibly get her killed, and you’re stuck at home?” He shook his head. “No, not stuck. I could be out there with him right now.”

Clint whined and wiggled on his back a little.

“I know they could probably kick both our asses, but it doesn’t change the fact that it fucking scares me. Every time I watch the jet take off and I’m thinking, this could be it. This could be the last time I see him. How am I supposed to keep doing this?”

Clint, obviously, didn’t answer.

Man, it was so much nicer talking to Clint when he couldn’t talk back.

“I’m sorry I broke your bow,” Bucky said after a bit. “I shouldn’t have used it, but I was real worked up and really needed to shoot something, and it was just there and my arm…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, man. We cool?”

Clint barked.

Bucky fed him some more Cheerios. “Cool.”

“Um?” Steve said.

Bucky craned his head back. Steve stood over him, flanked by Sam and Natasha, a confused frown on his face.

Relief flooded Bucky. “Steve!”

Clint rolled to his feet with a bark and bounded over to Natasha, tail wagging like mad. Natasha smirked and reached down to scratch his chin. “Hi, Barton.”

“Barton?” Sam said as Bucky picked himself up off the floor. “Man, did you shoot Clint?”

“He ripped my favourite shirt!” Bucky exclaimed, holding up the tattered remains.

Steve frowned. “That was _my_ shirt.”

Bucky looked at him properly then, running his eyes over Steve in an assessing gaze. All three of them were still in their gear, which meant they’d come straight home before debriefing. Steve’s suit was a little filthy, but he looked otherwise unhurt. There was just a tiredness to his body that no one else probably even noticed. But they weren’t Bucky.

Bucky sidled over to him and leant gently into his side. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Steve said softly, leaning back against Bucky. “Sorry I didn’t answer your texts. Natasha confiscated our phones.”

“ _Covert_ operation, Rogers,” Natasha said. She was scratching Clint’s stomach now, causing his leg to thump against the floor. Bucky saw Sam take a sneaky snapchat video. “I know it’s hard for you to understand when your uniform is the actual flag.”

Steve ignored her. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

“Nah,” Bucky said.

Steve was kind enough to humour him, though he still wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist and squeezed. Bucky offered him some Cheerios.

“So why’d he rip your shirt?” Sam asked, shrugging out of his tac vest and dropping it on the table. A habit all of them had that pissed Tony off. Maybe that’s why they hadn’t broken out of it yet.

“I maybe have broken his bow,” Bucky admitted. Everyone gasped like idiots. “But we’re cool now, right, Barton?”

Clint barked. Bucky held out his metal hand and Clint smacked a paw against it to confirm that, yes, they were totally cool.

 

–

 

Steve didn’t bother hiding the gun again because it was clear none of them could be trusted, not even the love of his life. He just wisely kept himself neutral and out of the crossfire.

Bruce became a victim of Bucky’s insomnia. Which was getting a lot better, honestly, though there were still nights where he couldn’t settle and he slipped from the bed to prowl the halls. It was just unfortunate that one of Bruce’s rare visits to the compound just so happened to coincide with one of Bucky’s sleepless nights.

Also unfortunately, Bruce himself suffered from sleepless nights. He shuffled into the kitchen for more tea, leaving the lights off because he had not been expecting to bump into the Winter Soldier. Who clearly had not been expecting anyone to bump into him, either.

They both startled and Bucky, caught up in memories, fired without thinking.

The red light struck Bruce in the chest and he yelped and fell back, dropping his mug. When the light faded, a little floppy-eared cavalier sat shaking on the floor surrounded by shards of ceramic.

“Oh, shit, Banner, I’m so sorry,” Bucky said, rushing forward, only to stop in his tracks as the dog started to bulge and turn green. “Oh no.” Bucky started backing up slow, watching Bruce transform. “Just– just try to stay calm, Banner. Shit, what’s that thing Nat’s always saying? The sun is setting?”

The Hulk looked at him, a massive green pit bull with muscles for days. He bared his teeth at Bucky and snarled.

Bucky swallowed. “Good dog?”

Steve found him about an hour later when he wandered into the kitchen, still half-asleep, for a glass of water.

Something big and green slammed into him and sent him flying back down the hall. His shoulders cracked the plaster before he slid to the floor. Well, that was certainly a guaranteed way to wake someone up.

Groaning, he pushed himself back up on his elbows and realised it had been a giant wagging tail that had hit him.

Gingerly, he stood. “Bucky?”

“Steve?”

Steve edged back into the kitchen towards the sound of Bucky’s voice. The wagging tail belonged to a big green dog that was sprawled on its side, tongue lolling and leg thumping. Bucky popped his head up over its back.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked.

“If I stop scratching his belly, he tries to kill me,” Bucky said.

Steve ran a hand down his face. “Jesus.”

“Can you tap out with me?” Bucky said. Hulk-dog’s eyes were closed in bliss as Bucky worked his magic. “C’mon, Steve, I’m gonna get hand cramps.”

“You have a metal hand,” Steve reminded him. “And, also, this was most definitely your fault.”

“Steve, c’mon,” Bucky begged. His eyes turned pleading. “Stevie. Don’t leave me out here all night. Steve?”

Bucky could get Steve to do just about anything with that voice and that look, except sit up all night giving the Hulk a tummy rub.

“Sorry, Buck,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

“But I need to pee,” Bucky called after him. He pulled his hand away for a second and the Hulk started growling. He quickly resumed scratching. “You're dead to me, Rogers!”

 

–

 

A few days later, and a storm was brewing over the compound. Literally, and figuratively. Steve had been with Fury all day going over intel from their last mission. It was looking more serious than they’d first thought.

He’d just gotten out of the car when a yellow lab came trotting over, carrying a very familiar hammer in its mouth. It dropped the hammer at Steve’s feet and jumped into a play bow with its tongue hanging out, butt in the air, tail wagging.

Bucky wandered over after the lab. “He wants to play fetch but no one can pick the fucking thing up.”

Steve shrugged and bent down. He picked up the hammer and threw Mjolnir as hard as he could across the lawn.

Thor and Bucky gaped at him.

Then Thor let out a bark and took off after the hammer.

“How the fuck,” Bucky said.

 

–

 

“Are you gonna tell him?” Natasha asked.

Steve didn’t bother looking up from his tablet. Natasha leant her hip against his chair to peer over his shoulder. “Tell who what?” Steve asked.

“Barnes. That it could be Hydra.”

Steve sighed and closed the documents he’d been going over that did seem to be pointing to Hydra. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “He’s been really happy lately.”

He had. Bucky had been smiling more, and laughing… God, Steve would do anything to hear Bucky Barnes laugh.

“It’s probably all the dogs,” Steve muttered. He let his head fall back against the chair and looked up at Natasha. She ran her fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. “What if it’s not Hydra and I put him through all that for nothing?”

“And what if it is? He deserves to know.”

“I know,” Steve sighed. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to purr like a damn cat. Natasha gave _awesome_ head rubs. “I’ll wait a few more days, see what Fury and Hill come up with.”

“He’s lucky he’s got you,” Natasha said quietly.

Steve just hummed in response. He could quite literally fall asleep with Natasha doing that to his head. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately.

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky called, coming into the room. “Are you–” He stopped, catching sight of Steve and Natasha. “Hey. Get your hands off my man.”

Natasha grinned and ran her hands through Steve’s hair again, then down his cheeks. “He likes it. Don’t you, Steve?” she purred.

“I do, actually,” Steve said.

Natasha laughed softly and wrapped her arms around Steve from behind, dragging her nails up his ribs. Steve yelped; Bucky gaped.

“Well, if you’re gonna be a bitch,” he said. Then he pulled out a gun and shot Natasha.

Natasha as a dog looked just as beautiful and deadly as she was as a human. Her fur was sleek and black with tan highlights on her paws, ears and snout. Her body was slim and muscular, perfectly streamlined to both awe and intimidate.

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve said, looking down at the Doberman that had been Natasha. “She was just teasing.”

Bucky was frowning at the gun in his hand. “Damn. I thought this was my Desert Eagle.”

Natasha twisted her head to look over her new body. Once she seemed satisfied with the result, she fixed her gaze on Bucky. With her pointed ears, she looked as dangerous as the Devil.

Bucky blanched at that look. “Sorry, I’m sorry. It was just a joke, Nat. You know I’m not really jealous. I don’t care if you molest Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve said.

Natasha just continued to look at Bucky until he was squirming. Then she turned her nose up and strode from the room, and even on four legs her walk retained that deadly Black Widow poise.

“She’s gonna kill me in my sleep, isn’t she?” Bucky asked sadly.

Steve nodded solemnly. “Quite possibly.”

 

Natasha didn’t end up killing Bucky. Steve actually saw them a few hours later curled up together on the couch watching Antiques Roadshow. He left before they could spot him and ask if he’d ever been on the show.

 

–

 

“Dude!” Sam shouted, startling Bucky from his half-doze in one of the rare patches of sunlight. For someone called the Winter Soldier, he really fucking hated winter. “Stop turning everyone into dogs! There’s fur in my cereal.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” was Bucky’s mature response. He rose from the ground, stretching. If Wilson was back, that meant Steve was back, because those idiots still thought it was a fun idea to go running in the mornings even when it was zero degrees outside.

“You know what?” Sam began.

“What?” Bucky snapped back.

“You know what!”

“Fucking _what_ , Wilson?”

“Eat shit, Barnes.”

Bucky jumped at the sudden closeness of Sam’s voice and spun around. Sam shot him point-blank in the face.

It was the weirdest fucking feeling in the world, being turned into a dog. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. It was just… weird. Bucky shook his head until the red faded from his vision.

Sam lowered the gun, looking like he was already regretting his decision.

Steve walking into the room then probably saved Sam’s life. He was fresh from the shower and he smelled fucking delightful and all Bucky’s attention snapped to him. He practically barrelled Sam over as he leapt at Steve.

Instinctively, Steve caught him and only staggered a little, letting out a soft _oof_. He struggled to support Bucky’s squirming body as Bucky tried to stick his nose in Steve’s ear.

“Bucky? What– _Eurgh_! Jesus Christ. Don’t do that.”

Bucky pulled his nose back and licked Steve’s cheek.

Sam tossed Steve the gun and he fumbled trying to catch it one-handed, half dropping Bucky in the process.

“Have fun,” Sam grumbled on his way out.

“Did you piss him off?” Steve asked Bucky in that voice that people reserved for creatures of lesser intelligence (i.e. babies and pets and _not_ Bucky despite current circumstances).

Bucky huffed, squirming some more, but Steve didn’t seem to want to put him down. He tightened his grip and hoisted Bucky half over his shoulder, supporting him with one arm before he went about making breakfast one-handed. Bucky sighed in resignation and accepted bits of bacon whenever Steve offered them. He’d been restrained in worse ways than this before.

He had a surprisingly good day, despite having to pose for about a billion photos. Steve shirked whatever Avenging duties he had and sprawled on the couch with Bucky while they waited for the gun to recharge. He dozed on Steve’s chest while Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s fur and the TV played quietly in the background.

“We should get a dog,” Steve murmured.

Bucky opened his eyes and squinted at him. He’d probably become the third wheel if they got a dog.

Steve squished Bucky’s face between his giant palms and kissed his nose. “Or maybe I’ll just leave you like this.” Bucky put his paw in Steve’s face and pushed. Steve turned his head away, laughing. “I mean, you’d take up less space in the bed.”

Bucky made an affronted noise. _Steve_ was the goddamn mattress hog. Six nights out of seven, Bucky found himself balanced precariously on the edge with Steve spread-eagled across the whole bed, one meaty arm flung over Bucky’s waist the only thing keeping him from falling.

“I wouldn’t have to worry about you stealing all my clothes anymore,” Steve went on. Bucky whined and put another paw on Steve’s face. Steve’s voice was muffled when he said, “And! I wouldn’t have to wait like an hour to use the bathroom while you do your hair.”

Bucky pushed Steve’s stupid laughing face in the cushions and howled. Steve just laughed harder and tightened his grip so Bucky couldn’t even storm off.

Bucky loved him so fucking much.

 

–

 

The next day, Steve shook Bucky awake gently to tell him Fury had called. Intel had discovered some kind of weapons experimentation in Slovenia and the Avengers were being sent in. All of them, which meant it was serious shit.

Steve didn’t have to say Hydra. Bucky could see it written all over his face.

He couldn’t help but fuss as Steve pulled on the uniform. He never used to be like this during the war, but back then he’d thought the war was the worst that could happen. He’d been so damn naive.

Steve kissed him by the landing pad before he boarded the quinjet. His helmet made him look harsher, somehow, but his lips were soft against Bucky’s.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said.

“Be safe,” Bucky whispered.

Steve grinned. “Always.”

Bucky didn’t wait to see the jet leave. Instead, he went back inside and stole one of Steve’s hoodies and curled up on the couch. A two litre tub of ice cream would 100% complete the picture of pity, but Clint had eaten the last of it and all that was left was Natasha’s gross low-fat, dairy-free, boysenberry shit. He wasn’t _that_ depressed.

Bucky had just about reached the perfect level of wallow-ment when–

“Hi, Mr Soldier! I mean, Sargent Winter– uh, Barnes, sir.”

Bucky closed his eyes and groaned. “Please, God. No.”

Peter Parker skipped into the room and threw himself onto the couch opposite Bucky. “Captain Rogers texted me – can you believe it!! Captain America texted _me_ – asking if I could swing by – ha ha get it – and keep you company while he was out punching bad guys. Not his exact words, but I assume that’s what he’s doing cuz that’s his thing, y’know. Like my thing is shooting webs, and yours is… that solid glare you’ve got going on right now.”

Parker actually paused for a breath then, and Bucky said, “Why are you here?”

“Well, like I said, sir, Captain Rogers texted me. Said he was worried about you being alone, and I kinda thought, you know, since we had so much fun last time, you remember? When you were a dog. That was cool.”

“Was it?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so, here I am. And you’re not a dog this time, which is cool, too, I guess. Hey, maybe you can teach me how to shoot! Mr Stark says I don’t need to know how to use guns, but it could be pretty handy if woof. Woof woof. Woof.”

Bucky lowered the gun and gaped at the kid, who was still making noise and didn’t even seem to realise he’d been turned into a freaking shiba inu.

“Oh my God,” Bucky said. “He’s an actual meme.”

 

–

 

It was actually Steve who ended up shooting Tony.

They got back to the compound late. The mission had been a success, no one had been killed, and the bullet wound in Steve’s thigh was almost completely healed. But because Hydra were fucking bastards, not all of the experiments going on at the facility had been weapon-related. Some of the things Steve had seen had hit a little too close to home.

Steve just wanted to grab Bucky and disappear, but the post-mission team dinner was kinda a tradition and Steve was too scared that it’d actually been his idea to bail out now. Despite three quarters of the Avengers being present, it was weirdly subdued.

It was always shit when the mission ended up being a Hydra operation. Like no matter how many agents Steve punched there were always more worming their way out of the woodwork.

Steve had finally gotten Bucky where he wanted him when Tony barged into the room, already halfway through a sentence. “…third time this month! You know you have _private rooms_ to violate each other in, yes?”

Steve sighed and sat back. “Tony, can we not do this right now? It’s been a long day. I just want to do things to my boyfriend and then sleep.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you started writhing around on my furniture. I’m not running a brothel here. And, really, you couldn’t at least use the leather couch? It’s easier to clean. Not to mention it feels great on bare–”

Steve pulled the gun from Bucky’s thigh holster and shot Tony in the face.

There was a flash of red light, Tony squeaked, and suddenly they were looking down at a black and white border collie.

“Huh,” Steve said. “That’s kinda fun.” He dropped the gun at Tony’s paws. “We’ll be back in eight hours.”

Then he gripped Bucky’s thighs and hoisted him up. Bucky yelped, clutching at Steve’s shoulders as Steve started to carry him off toward the bedroom. “Eight hours? That’s a little presumptuous.”

“That’s how long the gun takes to recharge.”

“Oh yeah.”

“But are you saying you can’t go eight hours, Barnes?”

“No, I can.” Bucky grinned. “Can you?”

God forbid that Steve Rogers was ever one to back down from a challenge.

Tony yapped after them all the way to the bedroom, before Steve kicked the door shut in his face.

 

–

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Bucky said.

“Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Steve replied, more out of instinct than anything else.

“Ha, ha,” Bucky said drily.

Steve looked up at him with a smile. Bucky was leaning his shoulder against the door frame, metal thumb hooked into the pocket of his jeans. He was wearing Steve’s hoodie and it was slightly too long in the sleeves. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun, strands tickling his jaw. His feet were bare. He looked so freakin’ soft, Steve had to fight down the urge to squish him.

“What were you thinking?” Steve asked.

“You know what I realised?” Bucky raised his hand, spinning the gun on his finger. “You’re, like, the only one who hasn’t been shot.”

Steve froze, eyeing Bucky and the gun warily. “That’s not true. Pepper hasn’t been shot.”

“Yeah, but no one’s gonna shoot Miss Potts. It’s just you, buddy.” Bucky was looking at him with a glint in his eyes that Steve knew too damn well, a smile playing on his lips.

Steve stood slowly, hands raised. “Buck. Think about this for a second.”

“I dunno. I wouldn’t want to hurt myself.”

“Oh, c’mon, I was joking.”

Bucky raised the gun and grinned.

“I swear to God, Barnes, if you shoot me–”

Bucky shot him.

Steve tried to dodge, he really did. He launched himself off the bed as himself and hit the ground as a dog.

Steve looked up at Bucky and glowered as well as he could with a golden retriever’s face.

Bucky clasped his hands together. “Oh my God, Stevie, I’m so sorry, but you’re so fuckin’ cute.”

Steve lunged at him; Bucky bolted. His laugh was absolute music in Steve’s ears and even if everything in Steve’s doggy body wasn’t yelling CHASE!, he still wouldn’t have been able to let Bucky go.

They sprinted through the compound, Steve’s claws clacking against the floor as he chased Bucky. Bucky leapt over the sofa and ran outside, slamming the door shut behind him. Steve just crashed through it and raced after Bucky across the lawn. Out in the open, Bucky didn’t stand a chance.

Steve tackled him to the ground and he twisted, laughing breathlessly, onto his back to try and fend Steve off. Steve slipped through his guard and started licking Bucky all over. He made sure to get a decent amount of slobber in Bucky’s hair because fuck you, Barnes.

Only when Bucky was gasping did Steve finally relent, flopping heavily onto Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s stomach heaved beneath Steve as he tried to get his breath under control. Steve licked his chin to hear him giggle again once more.

They lay like that until Bucky’s breathing evened out and he pushed at Steve gently. “All right, lemme up.”

Steve scrambled off him and Bucky sat up. They sat in silence for a while, just the two of them and the stillness of the morning. Steve closed his eyes and listened to Bucky’s heartbeat.

“I think I’m ready,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve turned to look at him, head cocked.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, you know, since Hydra got their hands on you while I was at home licking my own junk.”

Gross.

“If I had have been there, maybe you never would have gotten hurt. Or maybe you would have, because it’s your dumb ass we’re talking about, but still. If I had _been there_.”

Steve whined, pressing his head up against Bucky and leaning into him.

“I know, not my fault, blah blah. That’s not really what I’m trying to say, anyway.” Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, I used to be good at words and stuff.” He took a breath and said, “I want to go. On missions. With you. Staying here, while you’re gone, it’s driving me fucking insane. I sit by my phone all day like some hopeless sap.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to get back in the fight, but, hell, Steve, I’d follow you anywhere. But it’s not even really about that. I think… I think I want to start trying to do some good again, you know. For myself.”

Steve was so damn proud he felt like his little doggy heart was going to burst.

“So, anyway.” Bucky pushed a hand into Steve’s fur, his eyes on the flow of it through his metal fingers. “I wanted to tell you this while you were a dog because it’s easier, and also so you wouldn’t be able to argue, but now I’m kinda wishing I had’ve just tied you up or something because I really want to know what you’re thinking.”

Steve didn’t even know what he was thinking so it was probably a good thing he couldn’t open his mouth and say something stupid. But he knew that despite how much it might scare him to imagine Bucky going on missions again, facing Hydra again, no one else could make that decision but Bucky. Steve wasn’t going to let anyone, especially not himself, take Bucky’s choices away from him.

Bucky peeked up at him, hesitant and unsure, waiting for Steve’s response. So Steve did the only thing he could do. He put his paws on Bucky’s chest and shoved him back into the dirt. Bucky laughed as Steve licked his face again.

“Does this mean you’re okay with it?” Bucky grabbed Steve’s face and pushed him back so he could meet Steve’s gaze. “You kind of have to be, because if you say no I just won’t turn you back.”

Lying in the mud and cold, with four legs instead of two, and Bucky beneath him smiling hopefully, Steve realised that he was. Steve was more than okay, and he thought that maybe Bucky was finally starting to be okay too.

**Author's Note:**

> there's eight hours of deleted footage somewhere on my laptop.


End file.
